


in them thy comfort seek

by lostin_space



Series: my 12 (actually 13) days of gifts [6]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Vague Suicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21848590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostin_space/pseuds/lostin_space
Summary: He stretched his fingers out. They were the same fingers that he used daily‒except they weren’t. It was the same palm that held Maria’s‒except it wasn’t. It was the same hand that touched Alex Manes‒except it wasn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was that he didn’t deserve it or if it was just because it wasn’t his. It didn’t look right, it didn’t feel right, it wasn’t his.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: my 12 (actually 13) days of gifts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569967
Comments: 23
Kudos: 108





	in them thy comfort seek

**Author's Note:**

> day 6 for anon:) 
> 
> if there's any tags I missed, let me know!

Michael stared down at his hand.

The longer he stared at it, the more it felt like his eyes were simply playing tricks on him. He hated it even when he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what about it was so horrible. It looked like it should. Or something.

He stretched his fingers out. They were the same fingers that he used daily‒except they weren’t. It was the same palm that held Maria’s‒except it wasn’t. It was the same hand that touched Alex Manes‒ _except it wasn’t._ He wasn’t sure if it was that he didn’t deserve it or if it was just because it wasn’t his. It didn’t look right, it didn’t feel right, it wasn’t his.

“You okay, Mikey?” Liz asked, her chin resting on his shoulder and nuzzling up beside him.

“How do you think I should feel about my hand being healed?” he asked cautiously. 

It’d been healed for approximately two days and the only people who’d seen it was her, Isobel, and Maria. Max was dead so he didn’t count. Other than that, he’d shut himself away. He couldn’t even pinpoint the reason he’d locked himself away. He guessed he was nervous about who would notice and what they would think.

He was scared of what Alex would think.

“I can’t tell you what to feel,” Liz told him. He closed his eyes and pictured what his emotion should be. He should be happy. He should feel fixed.

Instead, he felt broken and guilty.

“I need an outside perspective,” Michael said. With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I would feel very blessed. You’re alive and healthy and you got a second chance,” she said, reaching out to touch his hand. It hadn’t been touched by anyone but him since it’d been healed.

He snatched it away.

“How do you actually feel?” Liz asked carefully.

He didn’t say that she made him feel worse because that’s not what she meant to do and he didn’t want to blame her for it. But, hell, it was the truth. It was one thing to know that he was taking everything for granted, but it was another thing for someone to say it out loud.

“I think I need to go home,” he said.

“Mikey,” Liz pressed, not letting him go, “You’re allowed to feel however you do. I’m pissed at Max for what he did, that doesn’t‒”

“I’ll see you later.”

Michael wasn’t sure how he got home. He just knew he ended up there. He trudged his way through the junkyard and went straight into the airstream, falling face-first onto his bed. He wanted everything to just go away. He wanted to forget the last three days. He wanted to forget watching his mother die, forget Max “fixing” his hand, forget Max dying and making it impossible to hate him, forget losing Alex. He wasn’t sure the last thing counted because it had happened far before the last three days.

He just wanted to be back to how it was before even if that wasn’t so great either.

He laid on top of his hand, letting it get smashed between the bed and his hip until it went numb. That was better than nothing. He was so, so tired. Tired of everything. He just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. Maybe then it’d be easier.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Michael didn’t move at the knocking and he was really hoping that whoever it was would get the hint and go home. Except they didn’t get the hint and the door opened and slammed shut. Michael took a breath and didn’t move. What was the point of moving?

“Maria said you looked like you were in a bad place,” Alex said, “Well, technically it was Liz. She called Maria and, for some reason, Maria called me, but I’m here, so…”

Michael was glad he was laying on his hand.

“Go away,” Michael grumbled into his pillow. Alex stopped walking.

And he didn’t say anything.

Michael didn’t actually know how long they sat in silence. In fact, it was so long that he almost thought Alex actually listened to him and Michael had just forgotten that he heard him walk away. However, that proved to be false whenever he heard Alex shift.

“I came all the way here to be a good friend and I basically am just staring at your ass,” Alex admitted. Michael tried to laugh, but it came out a little more broken than that and it was then that he realized he was crying. Cool. That’s a good way to carry on.

“Sorry,” Michael said, voice cracking. Alex shifted again.

“The standard thing is to ask what’s wrong, but I already know what’s wrong,” Alex said. Which was correct, but he didn’t know that Michael’s hand was fixed and that Michael hated it and hated Max and then hated himself for hating Max. There was no way for him to know all of that. “So instead I’m gonna ask what you need to make it a little easier to cope.”

“Go away,” Michael said. He didn’t have to be a genius to know that he didn’t sound very believable. Because he wanted Alex. The only thing he wanted more than Alex was for Alex to not see what happened to his hand.

“How about this, I’ll sit in silence with you. It’ll be like you’re alone except you won’t be,” Alex offered. Michael sucked in a shaky breath and for a moment he loved Alex so much that it felt like he was suffocating on it.

“I kissed Maria,” Michael said as a last-ditch effort even if he wanted him to stay, “Don’t you want to leave?”

“I already knew that and no, I don’t,” Alex said, “Yeah, that hurts, but you’re hurting and I know you. You are very good at hurting me to push me away. I’m not gonna let it hurt me this time.”

Michael cried harder.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Alex. He didn’t deserve a healed hand. He didn’t deserve Liz being kind. This didn’t make sense. How could he possibly be having the worst things happen to him, but still have Alex and Liz? That wasn’t okay. That wasn’t fair.

The sound of a chair scraped against the floor as Alex sat down.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, so get used to it,” Alex said. And he meant it.

Michael eventually fell asleep and when he woke up, he found Alex hunched over in the darkness. It made Michael feel guilty all over again and he reached out with his leg to nudge Alex awake while pulling his left arm into his shirt so Alex wouldn’t be able to see his hand. 

“What?” Alex asked groggily, lifting his head and rubbing his eye.

“You can go home, I’ll be fine,” Michael said, though he wasn’t sure he was. He didn’t really feel fine. His heart was torn over feeling special since Alex had stayed and feeling like a dick for making his disabled ex-boyfriend sleep in a plastic chair.

“Like hell. I told you I’m not going anywhere and I fucking meant it,” Alex yawned. Another wave of tears hit Michael which was actually bullshit. He’d barely been awake for five minutes and he was already crying. New record.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked. Alex sighed.

“Because sometimes people are just nice without expectations.”

“I’m horrible.”

“You’re not.”

“I am!”

“You’re _not_.”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut and brought his knees closer to his chest. He didn’t know what to say. Was still struggling on what to feel. God, why did he have to wake up?

“Do you need to be held?” Alex asked bluntly. It was out of character. They didn’t _talk_ about things. They just did things. This didn’t make sense and Michael’s head snapped up to him. “Serious question. Do you? I can if you need it.”

“Okay,” Michael agreed, his voice minuscule.

Alex shifted enough to get himself out of his prosthetic and Michael tried not to think too much about the discomfort on his face. Soon, Alex crawled into bed and curled behind him. It was easily the most at home he’d felt in months. As Alex pushed his hair out of the way and breathed against the back of his neck, it was easy to remember how to breathe. It didn’t erase all of his problems, but it made them feel a little more like he could handle it. He didn’t feel so alone.

Michael knew the moment that Alex realized his hand was healed because he stopped breathing.

The first instinct in Michael told him to run and hide. The second one told him to fight. The third one, the right one, told him to _wait_.

“I… That doesn’t…” Alex fumbled out softly. His hand was draped over Michael’s from where it was beneath his shirt, but it was easy to tell that it wasn’t the same as last time Alex had touched it.

“Max healed it,” Michael admitted.

“Oh,” Alex said, finally breathing again, “Okay. I-I didn’t know you‒”

“I didn’t,” Michael said, “He did it when I said not to.”

Alex held him tighter, squeezing him until he could remember how to breathe properly. Michael hoped he would never leave. This Alex could help him fix the world.

“I promise I’ll be here,” Alex said. He didn’t promise that it would be okay and he didn’t promise that everything would be easy. Because he had no idea.

All he knew was that he would be right there and that felt like enough.

**Author's Note:**

> also on my tumblr: spaceskam


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